


Jealousy, Thy name is Jon

by asongforjonsa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, But really it's cousin incest, Dark!Jon, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Sibling Incest, Smut, jealous!Jon, jonsa, possessive!Jon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-26 16:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asongforjonsa/pseuds/asongforjonsa
Summary: Jon and Daenerys arrive at Winterfell. Sansa makes a new friend.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a ficlet, and expanded to, like, the longest one shot I've done.

The Great Hall of Winterfell hadn’t looked so elegant in years. They’d been preparing for Jon and Daenerys’s arrival for two weeks, since Sansa received the raven from White Harbor. 

Sansa was wary of the dragon queen before her arrival. She’d heard rumors that she and Jon had become close en route to Winterfell, and she was uncomfortable with how angry that made her. She’d decided to focus on the task of preparing a banquet, rather than obsessing over Jon’s emotions towards the queen, or stewing in her anger over his abdication of the North.

She had a specific vision: candles lighting the room from wall to wall, hearths burning bright and warm, mead flowing heavily, dancing throughout the night. And laughter. Laughter had been missing from Winterfell since the day she and Arya had left with their father. In her heart, she knew it would be difficult, even painful, to see her brother with another woman, but she prayed the distractions of the banquet would help salve the wound. Even if she couldn’t explain them, she knew her feelings were wrong.

The servants carried out Sansa’s vision perfectly. The head table was covered in white cloth with a gray direwolf in the center, right in front of Jon’s seat. Sansa sat to his right, Daenerys to his left. Next to Sansa sat Arya, Bran and Sam. Next to Daenerys sat Tyrion, Missandei and Ser Jorah. 

Their reunion had been tense; nothing like the one at Castle Black. Sansa curtsied and kissed his cheek chastely, before introducing herself to Daenerys. Sansa could see the guilt and sadness in Jon’s eyes as he stared at her, and she excused herself quickly to escape his gaze. She hardly sat next to Jon at dinner, making a point to move around and entertain her guests. 

Once dinner was over, Sansa led the lords and ladies in dancing. She couldn’t bring herself to ask Jon for a dance, protocol and traditions be damned. 

Daenerys leaned over to whisper in Jon’s ear, “Your sister plays the role well, my lord.” 

Jon sighed, and nodded. He could tell she wanted a kiss, a display of public affection, but he would not permit it. He simply replied, “That she does, your Grace. Sansa was born to be the Lady of Winterfell.” 

“They tried to make her queen in the north, you know,” Arya piped up. She’d taken Sansa’s chair when it became apparent she would not be returning to sit. “But she refused.” 

Jon and Daenerys looked up in surprise. “Why?” Jon asked, incredulously. 

“You’re kidding, right? You left and abdicated the North. She stayed here and managed to rule with poise and charm and loyalty.” Though Arya tried not to spit that last part out, Jon could still hear the bite of accusation. 

“I know that, Arya,” Jon snapped. “Why did she refuse?” Daenerys started to speak, but Jon waved her off. 

“Because her first loyalty is to you, Jon. She had to tell them daily that you knew what you were doing, that she trusted you, and that they should too. We executed Littlefinger for many reasons, one being that Sansa realized he was actively trying to stir up resentment among the lords.” Arya sighed before continuing, “I hate to say it, but she’s become a brilliant politician. You’re lucky she’s so loyal to you. There aren’t many people who would remain as steadfast.” 

Arya studied Jon’s face as he turned his head to watch Sansa. She’d heard the same rumors about him and Daenerys, but there were whispers around Winterfell as well that something about his relationship with Sansa wasn’t exactly appropriate for siblings. She was starting to see why. 

Sansa, oblivious to this conversation, stopped dancing for a moment to have another cup of wine. She stood to the side and watched, smiling with her mouth but not her eyes. It might seem strange to those in attendance, her avoidance of the head table, but she was starting to lose interest in what seemed proper.

She was lost in thought when a handsome man approached her. “Lady Sansa, I’m sorry to disturb you.” 

Sansa looked up. “Ser Harrold, there’s nothing to apologize for. I almost didn’t recognize you!” 

She’d met Harrold Hardyng in the Vale, when she was posing as Alayne Stone. She knew Littlefinger had considered marrying her off to the knight, before settling on Ramsay Bolton. Harry had only gotten more handsome since she last saw him. 

“Please call me Harry. I hope I’m not being too bold, my lady, but you look stunning this evening,” Harry said shyly. 

“You are too kind, Ser,” Sansa murmured. She felt herself blushing, and cursed her pale skin for responding thus. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get to know you better when you were living in the Vale, Lady Sansa. I heard rumors that we might’ve been man and wife. It’s a pity that did not come to pass.” 

Sansa was surprised by his boldness, but pleased. Her smile crept into her eyes a bit, and she surprised herself even further by replying, “I’ve lamented that fact many times, Ser Harry.” 

Harry laughed loudly, drawing notice from the head table. Jon had been staring at them the whole time, but now everyone looked. 

“Arya, who is that?” Jon asked quietly. 

“Ser Harrold Hardyng of the Vale, Jon. He’s our cousin Robin’s heir.” 

Jon felt anger boiling up inside him as he watched Sansa and Harry continue chatting. Sansa was smiling more freely now, and even laughed at something the knight said. He was tall, with blond hair and broad shoulders, and a square jaw. Jon gripped his chair so tightly his knuckles went white. “Just the sort of man she dreamed of as a girl,” he muttered. 

Arya glanced at Jon nervously, and saw Daenerys glaring at him. Whatever the dragon queen’s positive attributes were, she was terrible at masking her emotions. 

“Would you like a dance, Jon?” Daenerys asked. Arya thought it sounded almost like a growl. 

He finally broke his stare. “What?” 

“A dance. Come join me.” 

Jon sighed. He’d never been much good at dancing, but he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he declined Daenerys’s invitation. 

When Harry saw the Queen and Lord Jon join the dance floor, he insisted Sansa share a dance with them. He’d been trying to work up the nerve all night to ask her to dance, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. The knot that had been residing in Sansa’s stomach all day seemed to multiply as they walked towards the center of the room.

Harry could sense Sansa’s tension, and put his hand on her back gently. She looked up at him, and smiled softly. The music began, and he seemed to sweep her off her feet. They glided through the room, eyes locked on each other, clearly eclipsing Jon and Daenerys, who looked like two miserable children being forced to dance together. Daenerys was growing increasingly frustrated; Jon had not looked at her once while they danced, instead glaring at Harry and Sansa.

Ser Jorah noticed her frustration, and came to the dance floor in an attempt to prevent the situation from escalating. 

The song changed, and Jorah grabbed Daenerys; Jon and Sansa were left standing in front of each other. With a sigh, she took his arm. 

“Are you having fun with your new friend, sister?” Jon asked. 

“Ser Harry is a lovely young man, brother,” Sansa replied cooly. She kept her eyes fixed on everyone around them. 

“Sansa,” Jon growled. “Look at me.” 

“I think not, my lord,” she whispered. She retained her Lady of Winterfell mask outwardly, but on the inside she was trembling. 

Jon’s grip on her waist grew tighter, and he pulled her even closer. Sansa tried to push away in a huff, but he wouldn’t let her go. “Look at me,” he commanded.

Sansa finally met his eyes, and it felt like the time stopped moving. There was nobody else in the room, just the two of them. They stopped dancing, and stood in the middle of the floor, for what felt like hours, staring into each other’s eyes. The music changed again, and Sansa looked away. Her eyes stung with tears, but she refused to let her mask fall in public. 

Jon returned to his seat, and drank a cup of mead in three gulps. Arya groaned, trying to resist the urge to smack him in the back of his head. “No wonder those rumors have been going around,” she thought to herself. 

Daenerys and Jorah came back to the head table shortly. She pretended like nothing was wrong. “Would you like to retire for the evening, my lord?” She asked brightly. 

She leaned in to whisper in his ear again. “I’d very much like some of my lord’s time this evening.” That little redheaded sister of his might have him strung out, but she was the queen, and he was hers to command. 

Jon closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “It’s been a long day, your Grace. If you would like to retire, you are more than welcome to.” 

Daenerys’s face broke the smile she’d been forcing. “Very well, my lord. My chamber is across the hall from yours, should you need me.” 

Jon went back to staring angrily and Sansa and Harry. They danced only with one another, and when he saw Sansa tilt her head back and burst out laughing, it was more than he could take. He used to make her laugh like that…

Eventually, Harry asked Sansa if she wouldn’t mind walking with him outdoors. He claimed he needed some fresh air, but she had a feeling he had an ulterior motive. She was correct. 

“Lady Sansa, I am not usually so forward,” he began. “But you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and being in your presence seems to have made me bold.” Sansa blushed deeply and looked at the ground. 

Harry raised her chin with his finger, and she raised her eyes to meet his. They were almost as blue as hers, and she felt them emanating lust and… perhaps even love? 

“May I kiss you, my lady?” He asked, almost in a whisper. Sansa nodded, and he bent his head, pressing their lips together. 

The knot in Sansa’s stomach seemed to disappear, replaced instead by fluttering. Harry kept one hand on the small of her back, and the other on the back of her head. She felt overcome with the urge to explore his mouth, but did not want to appear too lusty, instead settling for a series of more chaste kisses. They broke apart to catch their breath, and Harry stared into her eyes with wonder. 

“Thank you, my lady. I’d like to spend more time with you before the army departs, if that’s alright.” Sansa nodded again. “Wonderful. I’ll seek you out in the morning. Perhaps we could take a walk in the Godswood?” 

Sansa smiled softly, and said, “That would be lovely, Ser Harry. Thank you. I’d best return to my chambers for the evening.” 

Harry nodded, and offered her his arm. He escorted her back to her chambers, and kissed her forehead gently before bidding her good night. 

Sansa walked into her chambers in a bit of a daze. She’d been in so much pain the entire day, only to end it in happiness. Or at least the promise of it; Sansa had learned the lesson dozens of times over to not get too excited about something good. She sat on the bed fully dressed, trying to process what the evening had entailed. 

She didn’t even hear the knocking on her door until it turned into pounding. 

Sansa opened it, and Jon barreled in. “Jon, what are you doing here? This is highly improper!” Sansa hissed. 

“As improper as kissing a boy you just met in our courtyard?” he snapped. 

“You were spying on us?! Gods, what is the matter with you, Jon?” 

“Nothing is wrong with me, YOU are the one making a fool of yourself in front of our people!” 

“They’re not your people anymore, Jon, you gave that up when you bent the knee to that woman!” Sansa spat. 

Jon whirled around to glare at her. That one stung. 

“Sansa…” he whispered. 

“No. You do not get to come here and tell me what to do, not after you betrayed me!” Sansa was yelling now. He’d made a grave mistake, unleashing the fury she’d worked so hard to keep locked away. 

“Sansa, please!” Jon begged, crossing the room and taking grabbing her arms. 

She struggled against his grip, and yelled, “I trusted you, I let my guard down, you made me feel safe for the first time in years, and then you gave the north away! How DARE you!” With that, she finally broke free, and sat in front of the fire, weeping. She couldn't bring herself to say her heart was the most broken over he fact that he'd slept with Daenerys.

Jon strode over and knelt in front of the chair. Sansa had her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she let out heaving sobs. Jon rested his hands on her knees, attempting to calm her, but she swatted them away. Finally he grabbed her hands and yanked them away from her face. She gasped, and the sight of her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks shattered his heart. 

Jon stood, bent at the waist, and took Sansa’s face in his hands. She looked up at him with sorrow and anger in her eyes, and she whispered, “You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Tears fell harder from her eyes at that, and Jon rested his forehead against hers. 

“No, Sansa, no. I thought I was doing what was right for the North…” he stammered. He just wanted her to stop crying and to understand why he’d done all he had. 

“So sleeping with her was just for the good of the North?” Jon leaned his head back, and marveled a bit at how she could be snappy while also in tears. 

“I’m so sorry,” Jon whispered. He kissed her forehead, his hands still on both sides of her face. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “Sansa, please forgive me. I’d do anything for you to forgive me.” 

Sansa’s shoulders stopped shaking, and she took a deep breath. She gently pushed Jon away and stood. 

“Anything?” she asked. Jon nodded. “Fine. Give me your blessing to arrange a marriage between myself and Ser Harry.” 

Jon took a step backward, looking like he’d been slapped. “What? NO!” he roared. 

“And why is that, Jon? You have your queen, you chose her! What am I supposed to do, sit here and knit baby clothes for your future dragon spawn?” She almost sounded like she was mocking him, and he snapped. 

Jon grabbed her harder than he ever had before, and brought his face right in front of hers. Sansa gasped loudly, and tried to struggle but it was completely futile. She wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Look at me!” Jon demanded. “No!” she yelled back. “Gods damn it, Sansa, look at me now!” 

She finally looked at him defiantly. “Yes, my lord?” she spat. 

“You are mine,” he growled. “Nobody else will have you, Sansa. You belong to me.” 

Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “I do not belong to you, Jon Snow. You cannot claim the dragon queen and me at the same time.” 

Jon grabbed her chin so she couldn’t escape his gaze. “I did not claim her. I did not choose her. I choose you, Sansa Stark. You are the one I need, you’re the one I want. I cannot breathe without you, I cannot live without you. I slept with her to kill the feelings I had for you, but it failed. I belong with you, and you belong to me.” 

With that, Jon laid claim to her lips, pressing into them with fury and anger and passion that had been building since that day at Castle Black. He grabbed her lower lip with his teeth, and she squirmed against him, moaning. Their tongues tangled together as Jon tried to unlace her dress. She took a step back, and slapped him hard across the face. She raised her hand to slap him again, but he grabbed it in time, pinning it to her chest. 

Jon spun her around so her back was to him, using his left arm to keep her hand pinned down, and his right to hoist up her dress. He bit her neck and nibbled behind her ear as he dragged his nails up her thigh towards her cunt. He felt the heat pulsating through her small clothes, and groaned into her ear. 

“You’re wet already, aren’t you, sweet girl?” he murmured. All Sansa could do was whimper. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for, Sansa?” he teased as he rubbed her through her clothes. Sansa threw her head back so it rested on his left shoulder, moaning loudly. He continued biting her neck as he rubbed against her mound.

Sansa’s small clothes were so wet he thought he’d spill in his pants right then and there. Jon whispered in her ear, “Are you ready for me, sweet girl?” Sansa’s eyes grew big, but she nodded. He slipped his hand inside her small clothes, and groaned loudly as he made contact with her slick folds. 

Sansa cried out when he brushed over her clit, and Jon reached up with his left hand to cover her mouth. “Now now, sweetheart, you don’t want the rest of the castle to hear you, do you? That knight you want to marry can’t know you spend your nights with your brother.” He continued to rub her clit, and slipped one finger inside her. He could hear her whining behind his hand, and chuckled.

“Quiet down, Sansa, or I’ll have to punish you for your insolence. You’ve been very rude to me tonight.” Sansa nodded faintly, and he took his hand away from her mouth. 

“Jon,” Sansa whispered desperately, “Please…” 

“Please what, sweet girl?” Jon was enjoying this too much. “You need to ask for something you want.” Sansa elbowed him in the ribs with her left arm. “Please,” she gasped breathlessly, “Please don’t stop…” 

“Do you want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” Jon whispered. “Y-Yes!” 

“Good, I want to make you cum as well.” Jon ground the palm of his hand against her bud as he slipped a second finger inside her, determined to find that spot that he’d heard made women go wild. “But you have to stay quiet, Sansa, or else I’ll have no choice but to punish you, remember?” 

“Oh gods, Jon, ahhhhhhh!” Sansa hissed. She arched her back and bucked her hips against his hand as he rubbed her through her orgasm. When she stopped shaking, he spun her around, so she could watch as he licked her juices off his fingers. 

“Now Sansa, Do you understand to whom you belong, or do you need further instruction?” 

Sansa gave him a smirk. “I belong to no man, Jon Snow,” she replied. 

“Very well.” Jon threw her over his shoulder and tossed her on the bed. “JON!” She exclaimed, trying to look stern and not give into the urge to burst out laughing. He climbed on top of her.

“You shouldn’t have challenged me, Sansa,” he growled. 

Sansa looked at him angrily. “You should not have fucked the dragon queen and given away the north, Jon Snow.” She couldn’t let him off the hook that easily, even if he made her peak like that.

Jon’s eyes grew large. He knew what he needed to do. She would beg for him tonight, and she would forgive him. He wouldn’t let her rest until she did. 

Jon slid down her body, and lifted her skirts again, ducking his head underneath before she could stop him. 

“Jon! What are you doing?!” Sansa hissed. She could hear him whisper “shhhh” into her thighs as he nudged her legs open. 

Jon inhaled her scent, and knew he could stay down there forever. Her sex was glistening, the curly red hair at the top soaked. He breathed over her folds, making her shiver, before taking a long, deep lick up her slit. Sansa yelped, and jerked her hips up, but Jon grabbed them and held them down. He worked his tongue up and down, up and down, circling her clit, swirling her juices around. Sansa wished she could see what he was doing. She didn’t know men did this to women… It seemed so dirty but felt incredible. 

Jon slid his tongue inside her, and reached his thumb up to stroke her bud. Sansa had her hand over her mouth so the whole castle wouldn’t hear the wanton sounds she was making. Jon could still hear them, and smiled before continuing to fuck her with his tongue. He could tell she was getting close, her walls were starting to clench down, so he quickly switched his tongue and his fingers, humming into her clit as she wailed into her hand. She bucked her hips wildly, but Jon wouldn’t let go until she stopped shaking. 

He emerged from her skirts victorious, and tried his best to not smirk at her. She was still panting, her gorgeous auburn hair stuck to her forehead. He was pleased to see she’d unlaced her dress a bit and had clearly been rubbing her nipples. Jon hovered over her on all fours. 

“Now, Sansa. To whom do you belong?” 

“You, Jon. I belong to you.” 

“Do you belong to anyone else?” 

“No, Jon. Only you.” 

Jon crushed his lips against hers, diving into her mouth in a frenzy. Sansa ran her fingers through his hair and tugged on it, pulling his mouth away from hers. 

“Jon,” she whispered, “Take off your clothes.” 

Jon smiled widely, and stood up, extending his hand so she could do the same. They undressed quickly, and collapsed onto the bed, naked as their name days, grinding their hips together. 

Jon bent his head to capture a nipple in his mouth, rubbing his hands up and down her stomach. She put her hands back in his hair again, and pulled him towards her so they were face to face. She could be angry at him tomorrow. Right now, she needed him inside her. 

Sansa wrapped her legs around his waist, and ground against his impossibly hard cock. Jon kissed her, and slid inside her warm, wet cunt. They cried out at the same time, before realizing how loud they were and giggling. Jon intended to go slowly, and really torment her, but he couldn’t resist. She met him thrust for thrust, and he pressed his finger to her clit again, rubbing her through yet another orgasm. 

She moaned in his ear, “I’m yours, only yours, Jon, oh gods!” It sent him tumbling over the edge, and he spilled inside her, calling out her name. 

When they’d finally caught their breath, he smiled down at her. “Well,” he murmured, “I’m glad we established that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds out the truth

Jon and Sansa were silent as Bran and Sam revealed the news to them. Jon stood and thanked them for the information, then left for the Godswood, with Sansa on his heels. 

She expected to see him crying, or swinging his sword at a tree, or something. But as she walked up beside him, he turned to look at her, with a sort of amused look on his face. They burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching their stomachs and crying and turning red. 

“Oh thank the GODS!” Sansa cried out. She sank to her knees with her head in her hands, still shaking and laughing. Jon had to hold onto the weirwood to keep from falling over. She'd never seen him laugh so hard, not even when they were children.

Sansa stood suddenly, and pressed herself against Jon, so they were chest to chest, nose to nose.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed. Sansa leaned in to kiss him softly, with a smile in her eyes. They kissed slowly, gently, tenderly. These kisses, she would cherish. She felt safe in his arms, even if he'd been wild the night before.

He kept his arms wrapped around her waist, hers around his neck, for what felt like hours. The ache in her center returned, and she pressed her pelvis against his, feeling his erection through all his clothes. 

Jon turned her so her back was to the tree, and stared into her eyes intently. He grabbed her leg and hitched it over his hips, and ground his cock against her cunt. He slipped his fingers down to see how wet she was and groaned loudly; she had soaked her small clothes through. Sansa moaned into his mouth and reached to unlace his breeches. 

The cold made Jon’s cock twitch before he buried it in Sansa’s warmth.

She cried out, and his hand left her waist to pinch her bottom. “Come now, Sansa, you don't want all of Winterfell to know how wanton you are, do you? Letting your brother fuck your against the sacred heart tree, tsk tsk.” 

She glared at him, indignant that he'd stopped thrusting. “Shut up and fuck me, Jon!”

Jon roared with laughter. “I'll have to spank you for that later, Sansa.” But then he obliged her, slamming into her warm, wet cunt.

When he stopped moving again, she whined loudly against his lips.

Jon tilted his head back, he needed to ask her something. His hard cock stayed inside her, and he moved from side to side, slowly.

Sansa looked at him in exasperation.

“Sansa?” Jon asked. “Do you take this man?”

She laughed. Surely he couldn't be serious! He stared into her eyes with passion and love and the intense desire to protect her, and she suddenly knew he meant it.

He slid in and out of her ever so slightly. He was going to get the answer he wanted, dammit, even if he had to tease it out of her.

Sansa mewled and bit her lip, before nodding. “I take this man.”

Jon’s face burst into a huge smile, and he leaned in to kiss her. He couldn't hold himself back any longer, and he pounded into her until he erupted his seed deep inside her pulsing cunt.

He held her against the tree for a while, just kissing her and gazing into her eyes. 

Finally the cold was too much for them to bear, and he slipped out of her. 

“So was that our wedding, Jon Snow?” Sansa teased as they adjusted their clothing. 

“Not exactly what you had in mind, was it?”

“Marrying the man I thought was my brother while he fucked me against the sacred heart tree? No not so much.” She smiled at him cheekily.

“I'm so sorry to disappoint you,” he murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You could never disappoint me, Jon. As long as you fight for our home, and our family. And break the news to Daenerys by yourself,” she added with a chuckle.

“Oh gods…” Jon groaned. “Can't I just stay buried in you forever?” He reached down to squeeze her breasts gently.

Sansa swatted his hands away. “No, husband. None for you, not until you take care of this.”

Jon rubbed his face with his hands wearily. “Very well, let's go back inside and I'll find her.”

He didn't need to find her after all, for she'd been watching from the edge of the godswood the entire time, tears falling from her violet eyes.

~~~

Daenerys hurried back into the castle before the lovers could see her. When she finally reached her chambers, she flung herself on her bed and burst into tears. 

He’d chosen his own sister over her… “How dare he? Who does he think he is? Doesn’t he know who I am, what I could do to him, what we could’ve been… together?” The last thought gave her such despair she let a soft wail leave her mouth, before burying her face in her pillow. She hated the bed here, she hated everything about Winterfell and the North, she just wanted to ride south and never have to lay eyes on this cursed wasteland again. 

Missandei knocked on the door gently and stepped inside. “Your Grace?” She asked, before hurrying to her side. “Your Grace, what is it?” 

Daenerys hated to let anyone see her cry, but Missandei had been her dearest friend and constant companion for years now. She raised her head and met her advisor’s eyes. 

“Oh, your Grace,” Missandei murmured. Daenerys never let anyone touch her hair except Missandei, and now the girl reached out to stroke the silver locks from her face. 

“He loves his sister, Missandei. He loves her more than he loves me,” Daenerys whimpered. 

“I don’t think that’s true, your Grace, he’s been so affectionate towards you! Perhaps he just wants to watch over her as her brother.” 

“No, no, you don’t understand. I just saw them in the Godswood…” 

“What were they doing in the Godswood?” Missandei asked nervously. 

“They were… they were FUCKING! Against the weirwood tree!” Daenerys burst out. 

Missandei covered her mouth with her hand, shocked into silence. Daenerys buried her head back into her pillow and let out another sob. 

“I’m so sorry, your Grace,” she whispered. “Is there anything I can do for you?” 

“Just stay here with me, please, Missandei.” 

“Always, your Grace.” 

Daenerys dozed off after crying out all her tears. Jon knocked on the door and Missandei darted over to it, to shoo away whoever dared to wake her monarch. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she frowned as she muttered her disappointment. 

Jon gave her a quizzical look. “Aye, it’s me. Could I speak with her Grace?” 

“Not now, she’s sleeping.” Missandei wouldn’t even open the door, and Jon was perplexed by how informal she was being. Usually it was all pomp and frills with Daenerys and her advisors. 

“Have I done something to offend you, my lady?” Jon asked. 

“I’m not a lady, my lord. And yes, you have offended me because you have offended my queen,” she answered stiffly. She stepped out into the hall after quickly glancing to make sure Daenerys was still asleep. 

“I don’t understand…” Jon stuttered. 

“She saw you and your sister out in the Godswood, my lord,” Missandei spat. He’d never known the young woman to say anything but kind words, and he was taken aback. He put his hand over his eyes and groaned. 

“Oh, gods,” Jon exclaimed. “Please, send word to me as soon as she is awake. It is of the utmost urgency that we speak.” 

He caught a slight eye roll coming from Missandei. “Of course, my lord.” She nodded her head and rushed back inside the room, where she perched on the bed next to Daenerys, stroking her hair. 

“Thank you, Missandei,” Daenerys murmured. 

“Of course, your Grace,” her advisor replied. 

~~~

Jon cautiously made his way back to his own chambers. He wanted to go to Sansa’s, to taste her, to devour her and swallow her whole, but he needed to be careful in the daylight. 

Sansa had other ideas. 

She waited in his room, wrapped in his favorite cloak. He gasped loudly when he saw her, and she giggled.

“Sansa, what in the seven hells are you doing here? It’s the middle of the day! Did anyone see you?” 

“Oh, hush, Jon, nobody saw me,” she said dismissively. “Is it done then? Has she been informed?”

Jon shook his head. “She was resting.” 

Sansa gave him a disappointed look. 

“But Missandei told me she saw us in the Godswood.” 

“Who saw us?!” Sansa asked. 

“Daenerys.” 

“Oh gods…” Sansa groaned. “That’s so much worse than if you’d told her!” Jon nodded. 

“This conversation is going to be even more uncomfortable, especially when I tell her who my real parents are.” 

Sansa groaned again, her hand against her forehead. 

Jon couldn’t help but notice the cloak she was wrapped rather tightly in. It was becoming, but he wanted to know what was going on underneath. 

“So… does that mean I don’t get to taste my pretty wife still?” he asked coyly. 

Sansa glared at him for a moment before softening. “Well, it would be quite a waste to have come all this way in such an elaborate outfit…” She untied the cloak and dropped it from her shoulders in one move, and Jon’s head started to spin. She was as naked as her name day.

“You naughty girl…” Jon gasped. “What have I told you about your insolence…” 

“You never said anything about coming to your room wearing nothing but your favorite cloak!” 

Jon lunged for her, but she ran to the door to lock it. She turned around to face him, giggling. 

“Now, husband, what did you say about punishing me?” 

Jon scooped her up in his arms as she laughed, and laid her on the rug. He stared down at her, drinking in her beauty. 

“Well,” he muttered huskily, “You don’t get to be on the bed, that’s for sure. We’ll have to wait until the castle sleeps for the rest of your punishment, wicked girl.” 

Sansa bit her lip and tried to wrap her legs around his waist, but he blocked her. “Tsk tsk, wife. You don’t set the pace here. If I can’t punish you now, you can guarantee I’m going to take you torturously slow.” Sansa whined softly as he unlaced his breeches and pulled his cock out. 

Sansa reached to grab his cock, and he swatted her hand away. He pinned her arms above her head, and bent his head to kiss her quickly before dragging his tongue from her collarbone up to her ear. He nibbled on her earlobe and whispered, “Don’t be naughty just so you’ll get punished more, Sansa. I’ll know if you’re doing that.” 

She shivered, and tried to buck her hips against him, but he pinned them down with his pelvis, his cock resting against her mound. She could feel the moisture dripping down and she needed it inside her. Jon seemed amused by her desperation; she’d learn soon enough that the more she wanted it, the longer he’d drag it out. 

Jon kept his left hand pinning her arms above her head, and used his right lazily stroke her cunt. Sansa arched her back and moaned, but Jon gave her a stern look. “Quiet, Sansa, you really don’t want anyone to walk in and be scandalized. They think we’re still brother and sister after all.” 

Sansa couldn’t help but whimper as he slipped two fingers inside her, curling upwards and beckoning forward from within her. He kept rubbing his thumb over her clit, and he felt her walls clench around his fingers as she writhed and moaned, her brow getting sweaty and her eyes shut tight. 

Jon took his left hand down from holding her arms, and rested it over her mouth as he felt her getting closer. He got his mouth as close to her ear as he could, and growled, “Cum, Sansa.” 

His hand didn’t help much in keeping her screams muffled. She panted and yelped and shook and bucked her hips so hard he thought she might hurt herself. Her eyes flew open once she stopped shaking, and he laughed and took his hands away from her. 

“Seven hells, Jon, how am I supposed to be quiet when you do that?!” She hissed. 

“Shhh, Sansa, don’t snap at me, darling,” he whispered. Jon grabbed her hips and flipped her over. “Get on your knees, Sansa,” he commanded. 

Jon got behind her and slid his cock between her soaking wet lips. Sansa bit her own knuckle to keep quiet as he tormented her. He squeezed her ass cheeks, and chuckled when she moaned. She tried to thrust backwards into him but he wouldn’t let her ruin his slow pace. He pressed himself inside her, but just the tip, keeping his hand firmly around the base. 

Sansa wanted to cry out as he stirred himself inside her, and finally she couldn’t take it any longer. She looked back at him, and gave him what he wanted: she begged. 

“Jon, PLEASE. Please fuck me, please give me all of you, please!” she whined. 

Jon shook his head and she whimpered. He did allow another inch of himself inside her, then another. Inch by inch he slipped inside her until his whole cock was enveloped by her tight cunt. He grabbed both of her hips and held her in place. She let out a frustrated noise. 

“Oh Sansa, you didn’t think just because I’m inside you I’m going to fuck you right away, did you?” Jon teased. She tried desperately to move her hips around but he had them in a lock. 

Finally, he started to move from side to side, grinding into her instead of thrusting. He reached around to play with her clit, and she arched her back and threw her head back. “Fuck, Jon!” she whispered. 

After a while of just grinding inside her, he started to thrust, still agonizingly slow. Sansa peaked again, then a third time as he slowly fucked her and played with her nub. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it any longer, and he started to pound into her. Sansa grabbed a pillow that was laid nearby and buried her face in it so the castle wouldn’t hear her, as she screamed and cried through her fourth orgasm. Jon erupted deep inside her, growling and panting. 

He collapsed on top of her, taking them both down to the rug, and he scooped her up into his arms. Sansa looked at him with a very stern look on her face. “So that was it for my punishment, Jon? I’m a little disappointed.” 

Jon grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it, exposing her milky white throat to him and making her gasp loudly. He nibbled on her pale skin and grunted, “Not even close, wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, they got married while they fucked against the Weirwood! Yeah I went there ;) 
> 
> Not as long as the last chapter, I'm still trying to figure out if I want every chapter to be quite so long. I prefer shorter ones I can churn out quickly. What do you guys think?
> 
> Say hi on tumblr :) asongforjonsa.tumblr.com


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